


turning tables

by whovian91011



Series: Revolutionary Trash [2]
Category: Turn (TV 2014), Turn Washington's Spies
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25071364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovian91011/pseuds/whovian91011
Summary: Sequel to When We Were Young ficTwo years has passed since the victory at Yorktown, and life has never been the same. Change is in the air, and everything is exciting, at least it had been in the days and months after the war. With an establishment of a new government and adjusting to the new reality, Abigail is no fool. She doesn’t expect to change to happen overnight, but a part of her is a bit impatient on certain issues, which often leads her to butting heads with her new husband Benjamin Tallmadge.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Anna Strong/Abraham Woodhull, Benjamin Tallmadge/Original Female Character, Caleb Brewster/Original Female Character, John André/Peggy Shippen
Series: Revolutionary Trash [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/850536
Comments: 22
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

July 1782

Adjusting her cap, Abigail Williams drew herself upright. Slipping out of the house was particularly tricky, but somehow, she had managed it. It appeared she was in the Lord’s good graces, but given her intentions, she wasn’t sure how long she would remain that way.

The evening was pitch black. Everyone had long gone to rest, which was the only time she could make her escape. She couldn’t risk bringing a lantern or torch, in fear of alerting the wrong attention. Instead, she was forced to let the moonlight guide her. Dressed in dark men’s attire, as she had previously grown accustomed, it was much easier to maneuver around in than skirts and lace and corsets. Trousers and boots made running a much more viable option if she encountered any trouble, and God knew Abigail Williams had found herself in her fair share of trouble.

In fact, she set out to meet trouble tonight.

Dusting off her borrowed trousers, she set off away from the house and down the familiar path towards the woods. She had considered not bringing her father’s pistol but had thought better of it. Victory may have been achieved at Yorktown, but news traveled slowly. There were still skirmishes in several areas. British forces remained stationed around Charleston, and the powerful main army still resided in New York. And if there was anything she had learned in the past six years that it was better to be prepared while doing foolhardy things.

Is that not how the saying went?

She cut through the fields and entered the woods. There was an old shed down the beaten path, the very same Abe and Anna would sneak off to meet in their youth during their courtship, the first time around. It would have been a much shorter trip during the day, but under the circumstances, she made due.

After a few couple missteps, Abigail finally arrived at the shed. She never learned who it belonged to, only that it hadn’t been utilized in a good number of years. The handle was cold to the touch, rusted from disuse and neglect. She waited a beat just as the evening breeze rustled the loose tendrils of blonde hair escaping from underneath her cap, before finally slipping inside.

Her fingers drummed a light rhythmic tapping along the frame. Before the door could fully shut, two arms wrapped around her and pulled her fully into the darkness.

While her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the blonde felt her way along the figure, hands running up the arms of the invisible captor, quickly assessing. Arms, strong, steady, certainly masculine. Shoulders further indicated his sex as they were broader then her own. Her fingers skimmed upwards along his neck and then tentatively traced his face, brushing along a forehead, brow, two eyes, cheeks, and a nose. The moment her fingers discovered a mouth, the figure who had remained perfectly still pressed a kiss to each of her fingers.

Abigail smiled. “Oh, Caleb. You naughty thing.”

“Very funny.” Suddenly the shed was filled with light. A lantern on a nearby table cast the shed in a muted glow. Standing before her was not in factor Caleb Brewster but his best friend Benjamin Tallmadge. “He’s a recently married man, you know. And you’re about to be.”

She feigned astonishment. “Really? I’ve all but forgotten. When is the wedding?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you better do something to remind me, lest I forget again.”

With an arm securely around her waist, he drew her in for a tantalizing kiss. Heart pounding, she returned it with no hesitation. There was little doubt in her mind that could ever forget the kiss of her fiancé.

Only when they needed breath did Ben draw back, looking more than a little too happy with himself. “Do you remember now?”

She nodded, savoring the lingering taste of his mouth with a soft sigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” Her hands slipped into his hair, undoing the tie that held his hair in place. “Unless you stop kissing me.”

Ben grinned, lighting up his face so much her heart fluttered. “I can oblige with the task.”

“Good.”

This kiss was just as enticing as the first, only there was a gradual rising heat, an eagerness that craved to be sated. In that moment, she couldn’t recall which of their idiot friends had thought it a good idea for the bride and groom to not see each other the week before the wedding, but little did they know, she and Ben had made this arrangement in anticipation of such an event. Unfortunately, their friends had kept them busy to ever enact this arrangement until now.

“You weren’t followed, were you?” he asked as his kisses slowly trailed down her neck. It took her a few moments to formulate a proper response. The man had always been good with his mouth and not just for commanding his men. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Abigail murmured, breath hitching as he reached a tender spot. She nipped his ear. “Though from the way I made my exit, I highly doubt that Anna or Clara would follow me.” Anna and Clara, Caleb’s beautiful redheaded wife, had been staying with Abigail throughout the week while Abe and Caleb had Ben taking up residence at the Woodhull Estate, which formerly belonged to Abigail and her previous husband – another story for another time.

Ben nuzzled her neck. “And what did you do?”

When she hesitated, he paused and looked at her curiously and waited. Finally, she relented. “All right, I climbed out the window.”

He paused. “Please tell me it was on the first floor.”

Abigail bit her lower lip, although not feeling the slightest bit guilty. “Well…”

She hadn’t bothered using the front door, instead having climbed out the master bedroom window and crawling down the lattice. Some would probably call her a fool, but she had little choice in the matter. While she might have put on some weight in the past few months, she still had lost a considerable amount from the war, which made her trek down the lattice not as treacherous - although that was debatable.

He sighed. “I don’t think I want to know.”

“That’s probably for the best.” She kissed him again.

She could taste the faintest hint of coffee in his mouth as her tongue flirted with his. Heat radiated from him, and on a cool New England summer’s night, she craved it. Having an empty bed when she had grown rather fond of him sleeping beside her wasn’t something she really liked, and judging from how he clutched at her, he didn’t particularly care for it either.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured. His hands settled on her waist, his grip flexing tellingly. “Desperately.”

The words and the underlying hunger in his voice drew a deep shiver from her. “I’ve missed you, too.” She turned her face so she could nip at his earlobe, smiling as his breath hitched. “And to think this is practice for when you’ve gone to Pennsylvania to become a Congressman.”

He groaned at the thought. “God, what was I thinking?”

Abigail grinned, though she was very much feeling the same way right then. “Wanting to continue serving your country by congressmaning?”

Ben choked on a laugh. “I’m pretty certain that’s not the word.”

“You’re a Yale man. You should know these things.”

He murmured something she couldn’t quite decipher but wasn’t too concerned about it, enjoying the way his hands roamed over her. “Who’s clothes are you wearing anyway?”

Abigail huffed. “Yours, naturally. Whose else would I be wearing?” She knew he liked the thought of her in his clothes. On more than one occasion, she’s typically borrowed them whenever a dress was hardly suitable for a given situation. However, the occasions she most frequently borrowed his clothes was when they went to bed, and by “clothes”, she wore his shirt and nothing else. Then a scandalous thought inspired a grin of mischief. “And this time, no binds.” She arched her chest against him, so he wouldn’t have any doubt. 

He muttered a curse and pressed her back into the nearest wall, kissing her senseless. She wrapped her arms around his neck and reconvened the meeting with his tongue. Instinctively, she parted for legs for him, and he stepped forward, his arousal at half-mast pressing against her core and growing still.

Then he stopped kissing her, causing her to frown. Pulling back just enough without physically removing himself from her person, his gaze roamed her face, as if desiring to commit every detail to memory. Then he removed her cap to release her golden locks cascading down her back and over her shoulders. He touched a newly liberated lock, his expression was soft, wonderous. She felt his hands find their way to her face, which he cupped gently, as if holding the world’s most precious gift. He looked very much like a man in love, and oh, she loved this beautiful man so much it hurt. 

“I love you,” he said. The sincerity and love in his eyes left her with no doubt that he did.

Abigail was sure her smile was so wide she probably looked like a fool, but she didn’t care one bit. “And I love you, _a ghrá_.” Her love. His Irish rose, he’d once called her.

He brushed his nose affectionately against hers. “I love when you speak in Gaelic.”

She needn’t to be encouraged any further. Sighing with the gratification of a well satisfied cat, she murmured, “Then we shall continue with your lessons then, _a ghrá_.” She kissed the curve of one hand, without breaking eye contact. “ _A mhuirnín_. My darling.” 

She turned her face into the other hand and kissed it softly. “ _A chiste is a stór_. My cherished loved.” 

Covering one of his hands with her own, she nuzzled it affectionately and drew it down to rest at the center of her chest. She kept his gaze steadily. “ _A chroí_. My heart.” 

Eyes shining, she squeezed his hand. “ _A chéadsearc_. My first love.” _And my last_ , she thought as he drew in for another kiss, his breath laborious with emotion. 

While the years might not have affected the structure of the shed, it did little to prevent the sounds of nature from seeping through the cracks. As thoroughly caught up n each other as they were, the sound of a high pitched whinny pierced their personal bubble of intimacy.

Ben was quick to diffuse the lantern and situated themselves so that she was sheltered from the front door. Whoever it was, as he saw it, would have to go through him to get to her. As much as she appreciated the thought, she much preferred standing by her man’s side and instead of cowering behind him. 

When she tried to move, he held her still and pressed a finger to his lips. Her blue eyes narrowed when his grip tightened protectively. In retaliation, she wriggled her hips against him. He stifled a groan while leveling her with a severe glare. She returned his gaze, undeterred.

“Oi! We know you’re in there!”

Ben and Abigail tensed.

“Yeah and turning off the light really didn’t do you any favors.”

Caleb and Abe. They must have followed Ben when discovering he had gone.

“Damn,” Ben muttered, dropping his head to her shoulder in exasperation. She ran her fingers through his hair until the tension gradually eased from his shoulders and held onto him as he relit the lantern, keeping an arm around her waist.

The shed was once again cast in a faint glow, and a few moments later, Caleb Brewster unceremoniously let himself in, with Abraham Woodhull right after him. Both men looked as every bit of the righteous mother hens, though they clearly struggled with maintaining the façade.

“I knew you wouldn’t last the week,” Caleb announced confidently. He turned to Abe. “You better pay up.”

“Yeah, all right,” Abe grumbled. He scowled at Ben. “Thanks to you, I owe a debt.”

Ben shrugged, not in the least repentant. “You should know better than to gamble with a man who’s notorious for uncovering inside information.”

Abigail pressed her face into the crook of Ben’s neck to conceal her amusement.

And because he was a shit, Caleb poked his head around Ben and grinned. “Good evening, Abigail.”

The blonde lifted her gaze and rested on her chin on Ben’s shoulder. “Good evening to you, Caleb. How’s your wife?”

Caleb smiled ruefully. “You should know. You’ve seen her more than I have this week. A bloody travesty.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Ben and Abigail challenged, which had the whaler lifting his hands in self-defense and Abe grinning at the spectacle.

“I’m just doing unto you what was done unto me,” Caleb reminded them.

Her brows lifted. “Really? As I recall, you didn’t exactly hold up your end of the bargain. The morning of your wedding I walked into your chambers only to find you and Clara in bed together, with you holding onto _Clara’s_ end.”

Caleb blushed as Abe burst into laughter. “I… I didn’t realize you’d seen all that.”

“Oh, I didn’t see much of you. I did see quite a bit of Clara, since she was on top,” she supplied helpfully. Abe was now holding his sides and had to lean himself against the doorframe for support. Even Ben, with his moral upbringing by his reverend father, couldn’t fully suppress his grin as she put Caleb in his place.

Even Caleb found himself grinning, then sighing wistfully. “Aye, that was a good morning.” His eyes glazed over in memory. Abe recovered himself enough to smack him out of his reverie. Caleb coughed and shifted awkwardly. “All right. Well, we need to get going. If we don’t return Abigail, our wives will kill us.”

“We’ll be out in a moment,” Ben assured them, though Caleb was far more skeptical of the promise. When he and Abe stepped out, he left the shed door widely ajar. Ben muttered under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards at the sound of her giggle. “We need some new friends.”

Abigail touched his face gently. “Now, we both know those two are some of the very best friends a person can have.”

Despite his best efforts, he smiled. “That’s very true.” He kissed her then, sweet and unfortunately short. “We should go before they decide come and drag us out.”

They made it to the door when she turned to him, smiling happily. “Tomorrow, we’ll be husband and wife.”

Ben encircled an arm around her waist, his face aglow same as her own. “It only took us twenty-four years to figure it out, twenty-eight to make it here, and I can’t remember time where I haven’t loved you. Nor can I imagine a time where I’ll ever stop.”

Abigail leaned in to kiss him when Caleb suddenly poked his into the doorway. “Would you hurry up? We have wives, too, you know.”

Rolling her eyes fondly, Abigail followed Caleb out, her fingers interlaced with her fiancé’s. 

Instead of departing for Abe’s home, the men instead accompanied Abigail back up the trial towards the Williams home. Initially, she believed it was because they wanted to make sure no harm came to her, but when she saw the way Abe and Caleb quickly bounded for the house when they saw the house was alighted with candles, she recognized the additional incentive of walking her home.

\---

“I can’t believe you climbed out the window,” Anna muttered. “The night before your wedding. You should’ve been resting, and look what we have to work with!” 

Abigail’s hair was more than a little mused from the previous night’s adventure. Despite her best efforts, she had some twigs and leaves in her hair from the walk through the woods. She thought she had gotten all of it out right after the men had departed their company for the evening, but she hadn’t anticipate the mangled knots from her efforts.

Clara placed a consoling hand on Anna’s shoulder while grinning. “It’ll work itself out. We have plenty of time before then. Let’s just get her bathed and brushed and dressed.”

“You know, I’m standing right here,” Abigail remarked. “And I can do all of this myself?”

Anna scoffed. “Nonsense. You’re the bride. You deserve the pampering. Now off you go!”

“Bloody hell,” Abigail murmured. “You’d think _you_ had served in the Continental Army.” She hadn’t thought she’d been that loud, but Clara’s laughter and Anna’s reluctant chuckle indicated that she had.

“But it was worth it, wasn’t it?” Caleb’s wife asked cheekily. Abigail turned and gave the women a slow, devious smile that said it all before making her way towards the bath.

Stripping out of her shift, the blonde submerged herself into the bath. It was nearly too hot, but she was too fond of it to care. After having gone roughly six years without a proper one, minus her time spent in New York, she swore to herself to never take the little things for granted, and that included bathing.

Anna took up the task of brushing her hair, occasionally muttering about the knots. Abigail apologized, though not entirely contrite given the reason for it, and paid for it with the occasional tug of her hair. Still, there was no true harm done between the friends.

“I have to admit,” Abigail continued, once her hair was knot-free, “we didn’t make it very far before your _husbands_ caught us.”

“I am sorry about that,” Anna said and truly sounded sympathetic. “I swear, I’m not sure who thought separating the bride and groom before the wedding was a good idea.”

“My thoughts precisely.”

Clara entered the room with a large bag draped carefully in her arms. She was a seamstress by trade and made some of the most beautiful dresses that Abigail ever laid eyes upon. Her work wasn’t just limited to women’s attire but to men’s and children’s as well. Abigail envied her friend’s talents of needlepoint. Anna was particularly skilled in this area was well. Both of the women often teased Abigail about her lack of patience for it by pointing out her own calling. _“How can you not stitch a scarf but can stitch up a person?”_ Honestly, that was a good point, one that she could hardly refute.

Having caught wind of their conversation, the redhead nodded sagely. “It’s tough on men in particular. I remember mine and Caleb’s wedding week. He swore an oath he wouldn’t see me until the wedding day and not half a day goes by did I find him setting up camp in our bed. Let’s just say I had the sheets, and he supplied the pole.”

The imagery alone startled both women into laughter, and Clara nearly joined them, grinning wickedly as she set the bag onto the bed. “That’s not nearly as good as when my father got a hold of him though.”

“Put the fear of God into him, did he?” Anna asked, lips quivering in a poor attempt to compose herself.

“Oh, did he,” Clara sighed. “It was the one day I’ve ever seen Caleb Brewster without a beard. I almost didn’t recognize him as I was walking down the aisle. As he later confided in me, my father assisted him in shaving. Had the blade right up to his throat and he ‘helped’ his son-in-law to be. It didn’t help the fact that he was describing his hunting prowess from his youth in the Scottish highlands. In great detail.”

Her father John Mackenzie was a little over six feet tall and solidly built for a man of fifty. No one could have guessed his age just by the looks of him, only if to look at the slight graying of his hair. He nearly doubled Caleb in size and most likely in muscle as well. The sight of him hadn’t deterred Caleb from pursuing his daughter, which had earned the man’s admiration for him. However, it was to be expected for the father of bride to have a certain talk with the young man, especially if the young man in question was marrying his only daughter.

Anna winced sympathetically. “Did he nick him?”

Clara nodded, shaking her head in exasperation. “Yes, and I believe he did it to prove a point.”

Throughout the exchange, Abigail remained quiet, listening with a rueful smile, which faded the longer the conversation carried on. She hadn’t the heart to join in nor to end the conversation. Her mind couldn’t help but wander to what Ben’s conversation would have been like with her father, Thomas Williams, if he were still alive. Her father had always liked Ben, better than her previous husband, Tobias Hawkins. She couldn’t think of a similar encounter between them as Caleb experienced with Clara’s father. And the more she tried to think of it, the more she realized she had had no idea how the conversation would go at all.

Scrubbed and smelling pleasantly of lavender and sandalwood, Abigail rose from the bath and set about drying herself. She allowed herself to get lost in the pleasant chatter of Anna and Clara’s conversation, of what perfume she should wear, how she should wear her hair. In the end, she asked if she could have her hair styled in a simple braided bun. It was how Abigail’s mother had worn her hair on her wedding day.

She was in her shift and was helped into her undergarments until she couldn’t take the anticipation anymore. “Clara, I want to see what’s in that bag you brought in.”

Clara smiled. “I think you know exactly what it is.” She walked over to the bed and held it up. She didn’t open it yet. “I do have to say it’s not really my own design. Some modifications were made of course, so I suppose you can consider it as something old, something new…”

“Something borrowed?” Anna prodded.

Clara nodded. “But nothing blue.” Without further delay, she removed the bag to reveal a dress. 

Abigail’s eyes widened, her lips parted softly. “Is that…”

“Your mother’s dress? Yes,” Clara answered with a gentle smile.

The blonde stared, dumbstruck. “But… how did you –”

Anna placed her hands on her shoulders, smiling brightly. “It took some searching, but it was found in your father’s closet, stored away safely. Once found, Clara was asked to alter and update it for you.” She leaned in close and hugged her from behind. “It was Ben’s idea.”

It was her mother’s dress all right. The bodice of this custom couture gown has a sturdy under structure. It is fully lined, and is boned. Embroidered flowers trailed along the neckline, bodice, and the bottoms of the skirt. The back was laced with hand-couched grommets. The skirt and bodice were made from medium weight ivory linen. The kerchief was made from handkerchief weight linen and was meant to align the neckline for modesty. 

Abigail reached for it with shaking fingers and ran the material over in her hands. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the color of the embroidered flowers were much brighter than she remembered. The petticoats underneath were also much whiter than the originals, which had faded with age. Apart from those, she couldn’t tell if anything else was altered.

Her friends had done this for her. Ben had done this for her.

Blinking back her tears, the blonde spoke, her words half-choked, “I… thank you. Words cannot begin to express how much I…”

Before she fell apart completely, Clara rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her. Abigail found herself snuggly in the middle of Anna and Clara’s embrace. She held on to both women fiercely as the tears began to fall. She was overwhelmed, not with sorrow but with joy.

\---

A big wedding wasn’t something she had ever fantasized about. Even her first marriage had been friends and family, although those in attendance were mostly there for Tobias. She didn’t wish to overburden anyone with anything that was meant for just one day, which was why the idea of marrying Ben in Reverend Tallmadge’s church with their friends and family in attendance was so appealing.

However, things had managed to take a turn when increasingly more people from Setauket inquired into their wedding plans. Whenever she and Ben would tell them, they received plenty of offers of bringing food, decorating, and entertainment, none of which they had solicited. What had once started as a small wedding had turned into a town celebration, and it was enough to make Abigail’s head spin.

It made sense after a few days of processing. Ben was Reverend Tallmadge’s son. The reverend was a beloved figure in Setauket, and many of the people of the town stood behind Ben and his patriotism during the revolution. It made perfect sense that people wanted to show their appreciation. When she had expressed this to her fiancé, Ben had reminded her that her father had been Setauket’s most trusted physician and people loved him. Naturally, they would want to make sure that his daughter was looked after. “But it isn’t just your father they loved,” he added, touching her hand, “you’re kind and you’re brave and resilient. You care for those even if it puts yourself at a disadvantage. You’re following in your father’s footsteps in the practice of healing. They’re doing this for you, too.”

With the town behind them, they felt compelled to extend more invitations, a few men from the Continental Army, Alexander Hamilton and George Washington among them. She doubted they would show but felt good about sending them. .

The brunette took one look at Abigail, dressed beautifully in her wedding dressed, her blonde hair pinned on top her head, save a few loose golden tendrils that framed her face, and beamed. “You look beautiful.”

Abigail grinned. “Thank you. I… I can’t believe today’s the day, and…” She laughed. “I can’t stop smiling. My cheeks hurt from how much I’m smiling.”

Anna embraced her. “That’s a good kind of hurt.” She stepped back then motioned the blonde to turn around so that she could inspect her hair, which Clara had helped her with. “It’s almost time.”

Abigail felt a flutter of excitement in the pity of her stomach. “That’s not soon enough.”

Anna grinned and kissed her cheek. Then she started a little. “I almost forgot. This was left on your doorstep this morning. Addressed to an Elizabeth. Do you know anything about it?”

The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she realized she knew who it was from. She could count the number of people who referred to her by her middle name on one hand.

“I think I may have an idea,” Abigail said, accepting the letter.

There had been one person she had wished to invite or rather two people, John Andre and Peggy Shippen, or rather Peggy Andre if there was any truth to the rumors of their marriage. She and Ben hadn’t argued about it necessarily, but he had voiced some reasonable objections against it. Having a member from the British army, especially a high ranking officer, attending their wedding when tensions between England and the newly liberated country remained high, wasn’t in a good idea.

While she agreed with him, Abigail still sent the invitation anyway. Her friendship with John Andre, while initially complicated due to previous engagements and circumstances, was one she would cherish. He played an instrumental role of taking down Benedict Arnold, a traitor to the cause and even worse yet a turncoat and before that due to a series of interesting events, became a very good friend.

It had been a few months since she had sent the invitation and had essentially forgotten about it until Anna mentioned the letter.

Carefully, Abigail broke the wax seal and withdrew the parchment, unfolding the parchment. Written in an elegant cursive was a letter in John’s hand she had once been accustomed to long ago.

_Dear Elizabeth,  
Or should I call you Abigail?  
I hope this letter finds you in good health. My wife and I were very pleased to receive your invitation to your wedding, but I fear our presence would only cause distraction from the celebration. With current friction between mother country and a fledging nation, we did not wish to be a burden. Once the dust has settled, I hope that we can meet again.  
Peggy has insisted upon sending you a gift to commemorate your marriage and has yet to make her final selection. Most likely it shall arrive days, if not weeks, after your wedding as a result. And no doubt I shall find myself in a great deal of trouble for writing that, considering she is reading over my shoulder. She gives you her best wishes, as do I.  
Your friend,  
John_

Smiling, Abigail passed along the letter to Anna so that she could satisfy her curiosity. When she finished reading the letter, the brunette commented with an amused smile, “You have the most interesting friends.”

The blonde returned the smile. “Indeed I do,” she replied and followed Anna downstairs to help her and Clara get ready for the day, unaware of the surprises that laid in store for her.

\---

It wasn’t until both Anna and Clara had finished getting ready and when Abigail was all but chomping at the bit to head to the church did she discover one such surprise. Apparently, the number of townspeople who had invited themselves and their offerings to their wedding had grown significantly as the wedding date approached, so much so that there would have been overflow from the church. Instead, the wedding would be held on the Williams property.

Naturally, Abigail rushed outside to see before her friends could stop her. 

There was such a flurry of activity it took her aback. Several tents had been erected along the property’s line. A long line of tables, which she strongly suspected came from Selah’s Tavern, held several covered dishes and treats, but from at this distance she could only guess by smell, which had her mouthwatering. 

But what really caught her eye were the flowers wrapped around the stair banisters, which led down the towards the wedding promenade, with rows upon rows of mismatched chairs lining the path. An archway of flowers stood tall and gracious at the center of it all, where Reverend Tallmadge would be waiting to marry her to his son.

“How did I not see any of this?” Abigail asked, stunned.

“It wasn’t easy,” Anna said, “but the main work had been down during the night throughout the week. Fortunately the route you took brought you in the opposite direction that you missed it.”

“That,” Clara added with a twinkle in her eye, “and the fact that you slept like a log from your midnight rendezvous.”

Somehow, between the two of them, they brought Abigail back inside the house before anyone could spot her and overwhelm her with their best wishes.

An hour or so later, Abigail found herself alone with her thoughts. Her friends had left to find their husbands but not without expressing their happiness for her. She rubbed her ring finger unconsciously as she walked, taking in the room she had grown up in. So many memories had lived in his house, and so many more were to come.

She leaned forward and smelled her bouquet of flowers, waiting for her to take in a beautifully crafted iridescent vase. The soothing scent of lavender calmed and comforted her, though she felt no cause of panic or fear. She was at peace, knowing that her future waited for her outside those doors. All that remained was the signal for her to go.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, Abigail didn’t hear the door opening to her childhood home nor was she aware of boot-clad feet making their approach.

“You have a lovely home, Ms. Williams,” remarked a baritone voice. “Just as I remember.”

Inhaling sharply, Abigail turned around and promptly straightened. Years of serving in the Continental Army had trained her well.

“General Washington,” she greeted, her eyes widening. Then realizing she was gaping, she blushed. “Forgive me. I hadn’t thought our invitation had reached you and didn’t think…”

“That I would come?” Washington guessed and smiled. The corners of his eyes crinkled a little as he did. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And naturally Martha insisted.”

Abigail took the wry comment in jest as it was intended and asked eagerly, “Your wife has joined you?”

He nodded, expression warming at the mention of her. “Yes. I believe she’s in the company of Elizabeth Schuyler, Hamilton’s wife. You’ll get a change to meet her soon. Lovely woman.”

Feeling like a fool, Abigail blurted out rather inelegantly, “Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

He smiled affectionately. “Thank you, my dear, but I’m fine for the moment. But there is something you can do for me.”

He procured a small box from his coat pocket and approached her in that graceful manner of his. Once we he was close, he handed her the box without further elaboration, at least not until she opened it.

So, naturally, she opened it.

Staring back at her were a beautiful string of pearls, elegantly stringed together with a golden clasp. She stared at it in amazement before slowly bringing her gaze to meet his. “Sir, I cannot accept this,” she breathed.

“Of course, you can,” he remarked confidently. “And if you still feel this way, think of it as a loan, though I must warn you, when my dear Martha sees you in it, she will insist that you keep them. May I?”

Dumbstruck, Abigail observed as he carefully removed the precious pearls from its box and promptly turned around so that he could fasten the clasp along her neck.

She turned around and blushed at his admiring gaze. “It suits you.”

Touching the pearls, she smiled. “Thank you, sir. I only wish…” She trailed off, her breath catching in her throat. When he remained silent, she found the courage to finish, “I only wish my parents were here.”

Washington’s expression softened. “I’m sure they are here with you. You would make any parent proud to call you their daughter.” Setting the box onto a nearby surface, he clasped his hands lightly. “I understand that no one could ever take their place, and I certainly will never be able to fill your father’s shoes. But I would proudly serve in his stead, to walk you down the aisle.”

Abigail stared, well and truly humbled. Her blue eyes brightened with burgeoning tears. “It would be an honor, sir,” she replied, demurely.

Washington smiled warmly and offered his arm. “Then we must be on our way. There are quite a number of people awaiting our arrival.”

She wanted to assure him that the big wedding hadn’t been planned, that she hadn’t a clue about any of this, but then something occurred to her in that moment. The signal. George Washington served as the signal.

Abigail’s heart fluttered as she reached for the bouquet and accepted the general’s arm. She felt illuminated, radiant. She was ready.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC Face claims:  
> Abigail Williams: Hannah New  
> Clara Brewster: Sophie Skelton
> 
> The wedding was inspired by Brianna and Roger's wedding from Outlander 5x01

The wedding was more beautiful than Abigail could have ever imagined. The Almighty was certainly on their side that day, with not a single foreboding dark cloud in the sky. Walking down towards the dais, with her arm held securely in Washington’s as he escorted her, she didn’t pay much attention to the people who rose from their seats as was custom for the arrival of the bride, nor was she aware of much anything else. She couldn’t bring herself to focus on anyone else but the beautiful man who would soon be her husband, not only in spirit but in law.

Ben stood before her, glowing with such happiness it warmed her heart and soul. When Reverend Tallmadge asked who was giving her away, Washington’s reply was drowned out by the pounding of her heart. It wasn’t until she was passed towards Ben, her hand slipping into his, did her world sharpen into focus.

God bless them, they were too busy taking each other in, nearly grinning like fools to pay much attention to what Reverend Tallmadge read from the Bible, though they did hear enough to know their cues, especially when they made their vows.

Accepting the ring from Caleb, who stood behind Ben grinning from ear to ear, Ben turned back towards her. They had discussed it at length during the early preparations of the wedding. Abigail had wanted to honor the memory of her parents in some way, both being from Irish Catholic homes. Ben had asked if she knew what her parents’ wedding vows were, and amazingly, she had. Thomas Williams had told them to her often enough she was able to recite them from memory.

_“Tobias’s parents forbade me to use them,” Abigail had confessed after sharing the traditional Celtic vow with him, speaking of her former husband. “They weren’t very fond of the Irish, or anything Celtic really.”_

_“And he allowed it?” Ben had asked in disbelief._

_She shrugged. “It was a long time ago.” Despite that, the denial of her heritage by her former husband, no matter how reluctant, had hurt her deeply._

_Placing a hand over hers, he said, “I want us to exchange your parents’ vows. They’re beautiful, and they ring true for us.”_

_Eyes welling with tears, Abigail murmured, “You would do that for me?”_

_Ben smiled tenderly and brushed away a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “I’d do anything for you. You are my heart.”_

When they had approached his father with the reasoning behind their intentions, he had agreed.

Ben slipped the ring onto her finger and recited eloquently the words that Abigail had always held close to her heart.

_“Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone.  
I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One.  
I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done.”_

Having accepted the ring from Anna, it was Abigail’s turn to slip the ring onto his finger. She repeated those very words and finished the rest of the vow, just the way her mother had done with her father.

_“Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone.  
I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One.  
I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done._

_“You cannot possess me for I belong to myself  
But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give  
You cannon command me, for I am a free person  
But I shall serve you in those ways you require  
and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand.”_

She was vaguely conscious of a few murmurs from the guests, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away from Ben, whose face brightened with pride. Abigail Williams was a rebel through and through. She shared her father’s healing nature but also inherited her mother’s rebellious nature. 

And when Reverend Tallmadge pronounced them husband and wife, she knew in her heart, no matter how time might age and change them, Abigail Tallmadge would be no different. She sealed that unspoken promise between them with a kiss.

\---

“I believe someone wishes to cut in,” Anna remarked, interrupting the newlyweds who were preparing for another dance.  
Cheeks flushed from exertion and joy, Abigail looked at Anna, who gave a slight tilt of her head towards young Thomas, who stood a pace or so behind his stepmother’s skirts. Nearly seven, he was still small for a young boy. His flaxen hair strongly resembled that of his mother, Mary Woodhull, but everything else he inherited from his father. He was wringing his hands nervously as he stared up at her in shy wonder. “He asked if he could dance with the princess in the pretty dress.”

The blonde clutched her chest and smiled as Ben grinned beside her, relinquishing his hold around her waist as Abigail reached for Thomas’s small hand. “I would be honored. Princess, eh? I suppose that’s an improvement from leprechaun.” She directed a point towards Thomas’s father, who suddenly appeared by Anna’s side as if summoned.  
Upon hearing the last comment, Abe raised his hands in mock surrender, which was ruined by the grin. “Just to clarify, I think he referred to you as the fairy princess.”

Abigail gave Thomas a playful look. “You think I’m from the fair folk, do ye?” She bent down a little and stage whispered to him. “Don’t say that too loud around here. Let’s keep it our little secret.”

Thomas nodded, his shyness forgotten. “Okay.”

Abigail grinned and rose, holding Thomas’s hand in hers. She turned to his father and pointed at him. “And don’t you start spreading that rumor.”

Abe shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“You would, too,” Abigail remarked, lips twitching upwards. “Just remember that not many people take to kindly to women healers. Don’t need anyone thinking I have special powers. Let’s all remember Salem.”

“All right, you two,” Anna quickly diverted the subject to matter at hand. “Off you go.” She playfully shooed Thomas and Abigail to where two lines were forming for another dance, the music sounding faintly Irish-like.

“Your son stole my wife,” Ben complained mildly, his grin still in place.

Abe gave him a solid pat on the shoulder. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” He realized immediately what he said and winced. Ben’s grin faded as both he and Anna gave him varying degrees of a disapproving stare. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it the way that came out.”

Ben grunted a little, though he couldn’t really deny Abe’s off the cuff remark. He was referring to Abigail’s former husband, Tobias Hawkins, who had once been a close friend of his, Caleb’s, and Abe’s. That was until the day he had become Ben’s rival for Abigail’s affections in their adolescent years. Manipulating circumstances to his advantage, Tobias had managed to steal Abigail from under him and had been married to her for three years before the war. To make a long story short, Abigail had filed for divorce before his untimely passing – but that was another story for another time.

There was a question in his longtime friend’s gaze, one that they both knew Abe wouldn’t ask, not today of all days. Had Ben told Abigail her former husband’s exploits during his time serving in Culper? Tobias Hawkins had gained some rather vital information for the Cause, so much so it had sparked Ben’s suspicions. During a confrontation with the man, he had learned Tobias had been obtained his information from a British officer’s wife, exchanging secrets with personal favors. He had been with Culper since the beginning, so there was no telling how long the affair had carried on and if it had only been just that one wife. But Ben hadn’t shared that information with Abigail upon his discovery, believing it had been Tobias’s responsibility to confess. Unfortunately, the opportunity never came due to Tobias’s passing.

She had suffered the losses of both Tobias and her father all at once, and the days, months, year that followed afterwards had been some of the darkest of her life. He couldn’t bear the thought of breaking her heart by bringing all of those memories up again, not when she had finally begun to allow herself to heal.

He observed her with Thomas as the line dance progressed. She was so good with the boy, patient and kind as he struggled a bit with some of the steps. Thomas gazed at her sheepishly and grinned when Abigail made an encouraging remark. Then suddenly the pair of them broke away from the formation and set about their own way, spinning in circles in time with the lively music, their laughter interwoven with the jovial playing of the music.

Ben’s heart swelled inside his chest. And to think he had once thought he couldn’t love the woman more than he did. Every day he found himself falling increasingly harder for her and suspected it would remain that way for the rest of his life. And he was satisfied with that.

When the song ended, Abigail and Thomas returned to them, each looking more flushed from the dance. “I think you’ve put the work to ensure he sleeps well tonight,” Abe observed as he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately.

“You’ve forgotten about the cake,” she reminded him cheekily, making both Abe and Anna groan.

Soon after Ben and Abigail resumed making the rounds, thanking everyone for coming and for all their contributions to their day. There was plenty of hand shaking, hugs, and kisses to go around. If Abigail had a coin for every elderly woman that pinched their cheeks with affection, they would be incredibly rich by the end of the week.

“How’s your face?” she asked sympathetically as they made their escape from Mrs. Gilmore and her particularly skilled pinching fingers.

Ben feigned a grimace even as he rubbed his cheeks. “I think I’ll survive.”

Abigail nodded sagely and touched her own cheeks. “After today, I don’t think I’ll ever need to apply rouge to my cheeks.”

He laughed and held her close against him as they found themselves in the company of more well wishers. Soon enough a few of the town’s children in attendance, including young Thomas, were soon getting anxious for the cake. Setauket’s best bakers had pitched in to make both the bride and groom’s cakes. Traditionally, the groom’s cake was eaten after the wedding, and the bride’s cake was preserved for the married couple to eat for their anniversary. 

Together, the newlyweds sliced the cake. Ben served Abigail and himself each a slice before being unceremoniously shooed off by Clara, who was determined to see to it they continued to enjoy themselves and saw to it everyone else would be tended to.

Grateful for a few minutes alone, they sat on a bench not quite on the outskirts of the festivities. Slyly, she plunged her fork into Ben’s cake, and before he could protest, she brought up to his lips, which he parted the moment he realized what she was up to. He hummed appreciatively as took the bite. “Is it good?” she asked.

“Very good,” he affirmed before reaching towards her plate with her fork with a similar intention. “You should try it,” he encouraged with a wicked smile.

“I really should,” she agreed. She leaned in closed and kissed him. Smirking in response to his surprise, she seized the upper hand by skillfully sliding her tongue inside his mouth. Awakened from his surprise, Ben returned the kiss eagerly, gently cupping the back of her neck to draw her closer. She could taste the decadent chocolate and rich icing and was determined to sample every last taste of it. 

When they parted for breath, Abigail took in his pleasured expression with a serene smile. Then she noticed a bit of icing at the corner of his mouth. Without a second thought, she brushed it away with her thumb, which she promptly brought to her mouth and licked away the remnants.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “It’s very good.”

Still flustered from the impromptu kiss, Ben asked, voice gravely, “The cake?”

It was Abigail’s turn to smile wickedly. “That, too.”

Her husband’s eyes darkened with desire and leaned forward, murmuring, “Do you think anyone would miss us if we disappeared for a little while?”

She shivered at the implication of his words and licked her lips. “I’m afraid there’s a distinct possibility they would.” She brushed her lips over his. “But tonight… that’s another story.”

His brief disappointment at her remark regarding the unlikelihood that their sudden absence would go unnoticed evaporated at the mention of their wedding night. “There is tonight,” he agreed, his hand finding hers.

And just when things had begun to settle, Abigail reignited the heat into a low simmer. “I’ll need you to help me with my stays. You’ve always been good with your hands.”

“Shite,” he muttered and leaned forward to press a brief, desperate kiss against Abigail’s grinning mouth. “You drive me crazy.”

“As your wife,” she reminded, “it is my right.”

“Wife,” Ben spoke the word softly, savoring the sound of the word on his tongue. He brought her hand to his lips, the act gentle and reverent. The very word made him radiate with such warmth, such joy, it all but stole her breath. “I’ll never get tired of saying that.”

Catching her breath, she murmured, “It has been a long time coming. So many years, so much time…”

Ben shook his head before taking her hand to rest over his heart. “We’re here now. That’s all that matters. I’m happy we chose your parents’ vows. You are the blood of my blood, the bone of my bone. My love for you runs that deep. You have me, mind, body, and soul, Abigail Williams.”

Tears brightening her eyes, Abigail shook her head. “No.” Then she smiled. “It’s Abigail Tallmadge now. And don’t you forget it.”

This time when Ben kissed her, it was as if the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of them together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to a some criticism from a commenter (which is no longer up), I feel like I need to address a few things. Yes, the wedding was inspired by Outlander’s wedding from season 5. Yes, Abigail’s becoming a physician like her father is based on Claire as well. I love Outlander and of course there are influences based in this fic and the one prior. Secondly, I have done a lot of research for both fics, but in the end, I choose to write what I want to write because I enjoy it. I apologize if Abigail violates what’s considered an appropriate lady, but given her background, especially from the previous fic, I don’t feel the need to argue against it because it’s part of her character. As for as using Catholic vows instead of Presbyterian vows in said church, that was my choice. Again I apologize if you’re offended by the choice, and also if you’re offended that Ben is married a divorced woman. But I would also like to point out that context is everything. As for the writing something original remark, this is fanfiction. That’s all I’m going to say.


	3. Chapter 3

After the cutting of the cake, the wedding reception carried on into the night. Torches were lit to keep the party going, and the musicians appeared to only be getting started. Only a handful of people left before the lighting of the torches, including Martha and Washington, who bid the newlywed couple a warm farewell and offered them their congratulations as best wishes. Before departing, Washington said he would see Ben in Philadelphia in manner which reflected his days of commander-in-chief, though the hint of a smile and the slight crease his eyes brought some levity to the remark, making Ben feel more at ease.

In a moment of self-reflection, Abigail had worried about the town’s reaction their wedding, considering she was a divorced woman, living in a time where divorce was frowned upon. Not only that but the very fact that she was Catholic in a world of Presbyterians normally was cause for concern. But thankfully she had been proven wrong. The people of Setauket had welcomed her Irish father and accepted his Catholic faith as he treated each and every one of his patients with kindness and thoroughness to the best of his ability. They had accepted an outsider as one of their own, yet she had still worried and had mostly kept those worries to herself.

While she might have been accepted or most likely tolerated, she knew not many places outside of Setauket would share their views.

Casting these disparaging thoughts aside, she chose to live in the moment with her new husband, sharing in the joy as she watched everyone having their fun. Anna danced with Thomas gaily while Abe was currently taking a turn with Clara on the dance floor, his wife currently occupied with his son. It wasn’t long until Caleb inserted himself between the pair and playfully declared, “Go find your own wife!” Abe grinned and good-naturedly backed away, his hands up in mock surrender, before doing just that and returning to Anna.

Happily spent, Abigail leaned against Ben and rested her head on his shoulder. His arm was around her waist, holding her securely to his side. Every now and then, his fingers would press and explore but before anything could come of it ceased all movement. She was hyper aware of his form against her and how his meddlesome fingers but did nothing to dissuade him.

“Are you happy?” he murmured. She felt him turn his face so that the words were spoken against the crown of her head.

She smiled serenely. “I don’t think I can recall ever being happier in my life.” He pressed a kiss atop her head, and she didn’t have to look up to know that he was smiling. “Are you?” She nuzzled at his jaw. “Happy?”

“More than you can imagine,” he spoke softly and sighed as she pressed a kiss in the exact place where she nuzzled.

“I think I have an idea,” she mused.

He chuckled warmly, the sound vibrating against her and only drawing her nearer. “Perhaps you do, Mrs. Tallmadge.”

Abigail grinned and lifted her head so she could gaze upwards at his grinning face. “You’ll never get tired of saying that, will you?”

“Never.” He cupped her face and drew her in for a kiss, one that started out slow but gradually became warmer and then heated. She broke away first, extremely reluctant, and only for the fact she knew she couldn’t hold herself accountable for herself if she continued to kiss him in such a manner.

She shivered under his heated gaze, which only grew darker as she unknowingly licked her lips. Judging from his expression, they both knew very well what this evening held for them. And with another lingering kiss, neither was sure they could wait another moment.

She hummed thoughtfully, touching his face as the kiss broke once more. “We mustn’t be rude to our guests.”

With an agility that Abigail never failed to appreciate, Ben rose to his feet and brought her along with him. His sudden rejuvenation had her biting her lip in an attempt to hold back her laughter but ultimately failed. He gave her a playful nudge, which she returned before looping her arm through his as they made the rounds again.

The newlyweds bid goodnight to their guests, claiming that they desired to turn in early but encouraged them to stay and have their fun. She knew they were fooling absolutely no one, and from several knowing looks from both men and women alike, it wasn’t exactly a secret what they would be getting up to.

By the time they set foot inside the house, the previous exhaustion was forgotten. The music could still be heard as Ben shut the door behind them.

They stood there, drinking each other in. A certain something was in the air, a strong stirring of desire shimmering just below the surface.

Suddenly shy, the blonde touched the pearls at her throat. “I need to find a safe place for this.” She found the box it had arrived with right where it had been left.  
She reached behind her when Ben stepped forward. “Allow me.”

Smiling, Abigail turned around so that he could undo the clasp. His fingers were gentle and warm along her skin. She closed her eyes, enjoying the touch. It took far longer than it should have, but at the same time, the contact was far too brief.  
Opening her eyes, she turned around and accepted the pearls from him, sharing his shy smile. The shyness was foolish, since they had coupled before, in places that were not quite as accommodating as the Williams home nonetheless. But there was just something else there. Now that they were married, there was a sense of something more, deeper, a sense of completion. Intimate.

Placing the pearls back inside its box, Abigail held it between palms, thinking she would place it in the nightstand until she could find a better place. Her mind was thinking a half a dozen things at once when suddenly Ben’s hands were on hers, anchoring her.

“You’re still with me?” he asked, half teasing but there was such a gentleness in his gaze that eased her sudden onslaught of nerves.

“Always,” she replied, smiling. She looked down at her mother’s dress and felt overcome with emotion. Clara had done an incredible job with her alterations. She wondered if her mother had felt this sense of certainty when she had married her father, this trust, love. It had been different for her parents. They hadn’t grown up together, that much she knew, but from the way Thomas Williams had spoken about his late wife, he had known from the first moment he saw her that she was the one for him. He couldn’t have imagined marrying anyone else, nor did he when she had passed away.

Whatever her mother had felt on her wedding day, Abigail never felt closer to her than she did in that moment.

“Should we…” he hedged just as she began to ask, “Do you want to…” They both laughed. She reached for him and kissed him until any momentary awkwardness fading away. She melted into him as his arms wrapped around her and held her steady.

“If you want to go upstairs,” she murmured against his lips, reluctant to give up the taste of him. There were still hints of chocolate from the cake and a touch or so of wine. “I’ll be in the next room getting ready.”

“Do you need some help?” he asked before taking her lower lip between his own, causing her breath to hitch. The words weren’t necessarily a temptation, but what the man was doing with his mouth and his lingering hands left little doubt he was aware of the double meaning in them.

“I think I can manage it,” she assured him but smiled wickedly. “But if I’m in need of your assistance, I expect you to come running posthaste.”

Ben grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” He kissed her again before making his way towards the stairs. She followed, her hand safely tucked in his.

As if pulled by an invisible force, he turned around the first chance he got and returned his mouth to hers, unwilling to part from her even with the danger of falling backwards up the stairs. Fortunately for them both, there weren’t that many, though they nearly took a tumble on the last step.

They made it to the masters’ quarters, which was now jointly theirs. Instead of parting from him to change, she kept kissing him, finding herself in the same predicament of reluctance as him.

With this in mind, she hummed thoughtfully, “On second thought, I think I could use some help.” She ran her hands slowly down his chest. “I’ve gone without wearing women’s garments for so long I think I’ve completely forgotten how to get out of them.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she blinked innocently. “Does your offer still stand?”

“God, yes,” he murmured, smiling at the sound of her laughter as he drew her into the bedroom, his hands eagerly running over her back.

It was unfortunate they had to break their embrace to begin the process of disrobing, making sure she stepped out of her shoes first. He was very careful with undoing the laces of the dress and even more careful to help her step out of it. She went to reach for the dress before it could hit the ground, but Ben already caught it and held it out to her, an unspoken moment of understanding between them.

Accepting the dress carefully, she took care in storing it away and padded across the room in her stocking-clad feet. She leaned in and kissed him sweetly before allowing him to continue helping her disrobe. Given where the evening was headed, it should’ve been an incredibly frustrating process. In most respects it was, but Ben’s attentiveness and care made it easy to forget about the inconveniences. 

Down to her chemise, Abigail focused her attentions on Ben, finding his being fully dressed offensive. When she told him so, he laughed and suggested something should be done about it. She took delight in helping him slip out of his coat and helped loosen his cravat, pressing a kiss along his neck with every inch of skin she slowly exposed. The kisses spurred him to move more quickly, removing his shirt as she stepped back towards the foot of the bed.

She observed him closely as he kicked off shoes, very much appreciative of the sight of him in his trousers and nothing else. While he was distracted, she reached down and pulled the chemise over her head, leaving her in nothing more than her stockings. Then she waited for him.

Shoes and socks gone, Ben straightened and turned towards her, freezing at the sight of her. His dark gaze ran over her form, once, twice, and then a third time, this time more slowly, appreciatively. “Christ,” he murmured.

Smiling, Abigail slowly reached towards her head and pulled out the pins that held her hair in place. A few strands fell with each removal and then it all fell at once, golden waves cascading down her shoulders in a gentle tumble. 

Instead of reaching for him, she sat on the bed and scooted backwards until she was against the headboard. She batted her lashes coquettishly, drawing up one leg towards her, while the other lay straight before her.

“There’s one more thing,” she remarked, then her gaze dropped to his trousers. “Or I suppose two more things.”

Either he ignored the last remark or simply didn’t hear her, Ben broke out of his daze headed straight towards the bed. Setting his hands on either side of her, he slowly crawled towards her, his attention entirely fixated on her. He looked at her with the intensity and passion he had once reserved solely on the battlefield and for Culper missions – at least that was what she had once thought before she learned of his feelings for her and just how deeply they ran.

Shivering in anticipation, she watched with rapt attention as his fingers skimmed over the top of her stocking. He pressed a kiss to her thigh before slowly inching the material downwards, kissing every expanse of skin he uncovered. He took his time, savoring and appreciating. By the time he finally removed the stocking, she trembling with desire as he repeated the same respect to her other leg.

When they had first… coupled, he had been inexperienced and unsure. The more time they physically expressed themselves, the more confident he became, more willing and eager to explore. This had proven even more so after Yorktown and had almost returned to their everyday lives. Now that they had more time on their hands, Ben proved to be the ideal student under her guidance, both of them reaping the benefits from his education.

“You’re going to pay for that,” she murmured, no true heat in her words as he finally got rid of the other stocking.

Ben was already kissing his way upwards when he grinned. “You make it sound like such a terrible hardship.”

She reached down and ran her hands through his hair, after releasing it from its tie. She scratched his scalp lightly with her nails and smiled when he growled quietly. She would’ve made some sort of witty remark, but soon his mouth had reached the apex of her thighs and she couldn't think at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not plagiarize this chapter. I repeat. I did. not. I've never read any Turn fics when I began posting in this fandom, and I probably never will after this. The comments and my replies will be removed. I reacted in anger, which I shouldn't have done, and I apologize.
> 
> I hope the rest of you can enjoy the story, and I apologize for the drama. This won't stop me from writing this fic because I love these characters and the story that I'll continue to tell.
> 
> Update: I tried reaching out and it didn’t work. Yes I deleted that comment and no that is not a sign of guilt. I’m just done with this. And seriously if I had stolen someone else’s work, I wouldn’t have the audacity to publish it as my own.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: graphic violent imagery  
> tw: attempted sexual assault

Canon fire erupted around her, conjuring pillars of thick, black smoke in the wake of the fiery spark. Abigail dove for cover immediately just as the cannonball struck its target and blasted the wooden structure to smithereens. She didn’t have to imagine what it did to the soldiers.

Shakily, she lifted her face from the dirt only to find herself wanting to bury it further into the ground. All around her laid mangled bodies in various stages of death. Some were missing limbs, a hand, a foot, a leg. Most faces were dirty and bloodied without recognition. 

Against her better judgement, she crawled forward, propping herself up on her elbows with every inch she slowly gained. The sound of immediate flying bullets had her pressing herself further into the ground, her breathing coming out harshly from fear. She’d already lost her cap, but that didn’t matter much now.

She assessed her options. She could play dead but knew that was risky, with the firing cannons and the trampling feet of fighting soldiers. Or she could make a dash for it, towards the woods. Under normal circumstances, the woods weren't so far off, but with chaos erupting around her, it felt like an eternal stretch.

Murmuring her apologies, she searched through the fallen soldier’s person until she recovered a weapon, said a quick prayer in Gaelic, and then closed her eyes, waiting. When she opened them again, the nameless soldier was now the face of her former husband, Tobias Hawkins, who stared at her without seeing, his throat viciously slit, blood pouring steadily from the wound.

Crying out, she leapt back in horror, every inch of her shaking. She blinked and blinked again, but the image wouldn’t go away. No, this was a nightmare, she reminded herself, willing herself not to scream. Just breathe. 

She knew it was a dream. But why couldn’t she wake up? This wasn’t real.

Oh but it was. Tobias had died just like that and was left to die, alone in the woods until Ben and Caleb had recovered him. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“This is my fault,” she moaned, her hands trembling as she brought them up to her face, only to find they were covered in blood. His blood. Her blood.

She looked down and saw the dark red stain blossoming across her uniform shirt. Bullet wound. The same place she’d been shot at Kent Farm. She pressed her hands over the wound to stop the bleeding, but no matter how much she tried, the blood kept coming and coming.

Maybe she deserved this.

If she hadn’t enlisted, Tobias would still be alive. Her father, the generous, wonderful Thomas Williams, would still be alive. If not for a series of unfortunate events, he would still be alive, too.

“Abigail!”

Her head shot up and found Ben several yards away from her, his expression drawn and determined, his hand extended towards her. “This way!” he ordered.

She tried to move, but she was rooted to the spot. Everything suddenly felt heavy, her breathing coming out shorter. Severe blood loss, confusion, fatigue, she thought tiredly, all the symptoms blending together inside her mind like a whirl of smoke.

He gestured for her urgently. “Run!”

She attempted a step forward and stumbled, catching herself on one of the fallen soldiers. It was difficult to tell if it was a redcoat or a rebel soldier. Too fatigued to find out further. 

“What are you doing? Run!” she heard him scream

She was going to be sick. Clutching her wounded abdomen, she tried her best to fight it off and continued forward. She felt weighed down and sluggish. At the rate she was going, she wasn’t going to make it.

Gritting her teeth, she propelled herself forward and only made it a handful steps at a half ran when a sudden pair of calloused hands seized her.

“Gotcha, you little bitch,” an aggressive male voice snarled, hauling her close. 

She was spun around and came face to face with Lieutenant Gamble. Whatever remaining color in her face vanished. No, no, he was dead. He was most definitely dead. She had made certain of it, both herself and Tobias.

But from the roughness of his hands and the foulness of his breath, it was hard to deny that he was in front of her now. His gaze was dark and predatory. “I never did finish your search,” he murmured and promptly shoved her to the ground.

She landed hard on the solid earth, wheezing. Before she knew it, he was on top of her. She heard the rip in her shirt and felt the hot balmy war-filled air against her bare breast. No, no, no, nonononoo.

With a sudden burst of renewed strength, she fought against him, screaming, shrieking, biting, and clawing, but none of this appeared to have an effect. If anything, her fight excited him and his cruelty. He yanked open on the material of her shirt until she was completely bare.

Sucking in a breath, she felt incredibly dizzy, the fight gradually leaving her. No, fight back, she thought desperately, fight back.

“Abigail,” he said. She refused to respond. Frowning, he repeated her name, loudly. “Abigail!” He gave her a violent shake, nearly rattling her teeth. “Abigail!”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she refused to acknowledge him, just wanted it to be over. 

He shook her again and when her name was shouted at her again, it didn’t belong to Gamble. The voice sounded familiar, closer, and extremely frightened. “Abigail! Wake up!”

“No!” she shouted, jerking away violently from their grip and rolled away, landing with a hard thud.

When the blonde opened her eyes, she found herself lying on the floor of her bedroom, wrapped in bed sheets and nothing else.

“Christ,” she heard a curse and the sound of someone leaping out of bed and rushing to her side. “Are you all right?”

The moment he touched her, Abigail flinched and looked up to see Ben, loving husband, gazing down at her with no small amount of distress.

“I…” she didn’t know where to begin, too confused to register.

Sensing this, Ben reached out to her slowly, careful not to startle her. “It’s okay. You’re here. With me,” he murmured soothingly. When she didn’t balk at his touch, he cupped her face. “We’re home. You’re safe, with me.”

“With you,” she murmured. Just saying the words out loud helped begin to steady the racing of her heart. It took a few moments for her to pluck up the courage, but she inched herself closer to him, slowly, until she was close enough to feel his warmth. He didn’t draw her closer. He left that up to her.

Breathing out harshly, she wrapped her arms around him, buried her face against his chest. His arms immediately were around her, and she knew what he said was true, that she was safe with him.

This wasn’t the first time this happened. Almost as soon as they had returned home did the nightmares begin to plague her. At first, she had tried to hide them from him, but in the end, she realized she had only been harming herself by doing so.

She wished she knew how to work through it. Vulnerability was something she had trouble with, especially with those closest to her. She didn’t want anyone to see the cracks in her armor, something she had unknowingly constructed at some point in her life and didn’t know how to tear down. Did she even want to?

But then there was Ben, who didn’t demolish her walls all in one go. Patiently, he helped remove them, brick by brick until she stripped bare. It almost frightened her by how wiling she was to let him in, to allow him to share this part of her she was afraid to expose to anyone else. But he understood and stayed with her through it all. The nightmares hadn’t diminished, but having him there, with his arms around her, to bring her back to the surface of consciousness when her memories threatened to overwhelm her, that meant more to her than he could ever know.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “Of all the nights.” She laughed bitterly against his chest. “I ruined it, didn’t I?”

“No,” he murmured fiercely, rubbing her back. “You didn’t. Healing takes time. I’ll always be here for you. There’s nothing you an do that can drive me away. I love you.”

She released a steadying breath. “I love you, too.” She pressed herself closer, basking in the warmth of his arms and his love. “I can’t remember a time where I haven’t.”

“Neither can I,” he replied softly. She thought she heard a smile in his voice and found herself smiling back. She wished desperately that she could figure out how to compartmentalize her trauma and how to deal with it. Waking up in Ben’s arms after a night terror always helped bring her back down.

“Let’s go back to bed,” she murmured after God only knew how long they spent there on the floor.

“Are you sure?” he asked carefully.

She nodded and together they rose. He released her so that he could move to his side of the bed, then waited patiently as she made her decision. 

Dropping the sheets from her body, she crawled into bed with him, the two of them completely naked, in more ways than one, especially for her. When she thought about being vulnerable now, she knew in her heart she didn’t mind it so much, not that when she was with him.

“You can tell me about it whenever you’re ready,” he assured her, running his fingers through her hair. “I won’t pry.”

“I know you won’t,” she said, resting her cheek against his chest. The sound of his beating heart brought her immense comfort. “But I will tell you. I just… need a few moments.”

“Take all the time you need.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Abagail trusted him to his word, trusted him in every way it counted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A took a few liberties with the historical tidbits here, but hey, it's fanfic ;)

Even with the victory at Yorktown, the war for independence was far from over. It wouldn’t be until the Treaty of Paris, signed in September 1783 that would officially end the war, but until that day, times were still dangerous. But for those who had been so heavily entrenched in the war, those days were behind them.

Caleb continued with his smuggling efforts to assist the Continentals fighting off the last remnants of the British army, who must have known the war was lost but continued to fight to the bitter end. However, he was far less active than he once was, now that he had someone who waited anxiously for his return. 

Abe, now married to Anna, continued with his legal studies with a renewed passion. For the longest time, he had despised the practice and had only initially pursued it for the sake of his father, though he had much preferred tending to his cabbage farming. Seeing people suffering from the effects of British tyranny with legal struggles, he recognized he could help them, if only he finished. And this time, he also made this decision with his father in mind, to honor his memory.

Anna continued to work in the tavern to contribute to the household, despite Abe’s protests of wanting to be the sole provider. Eventually, she had worn him down, reminding him that while he needed to focus on his studies, someone needed to help put food on the table. She told him this while taking his hand and placing it on her stomach. “Since there’s going to be four of us soon,” she confessed, smiling at the stunned, then delighted expression on Abe’s face.

Ben was initially conscripted to return to the line of duty, but after some consideration, he refused. He couldn’t bring himself to leave Abigail, who was now his wife, not when the terrors from all of those years were now catching up with her. He refused to leave her to handle the trauma all on her own. Having discussed it with Washington prior to their wedding, they had agreed he would assist in the efforts of reestablishing a Congress, one that wasn’t so bogged down in bureaucracy and petty political rivalries. They needed someone to speak on behalf of the soldiers, who knew exactly what it was like to serve and walk in their boots. Washington believed he was that person.

His arrival at Carpenter’s Hall, the seat of the Continental Congress in Philadelphia, was expected within the week after their wedding, and a few days had already passed since.

“I want you to come with me,” Ben said as they walked along Abigail’s father’s property, which was now legally Ben’s property. Even with the legalities, he continued to refer to the land and house as jointly theirs. Despite her misgiving regarding women’s treatment within the realms of legal rights in marriage, Abigail appreciated her husband’s thoughtfulness and couldn’t hold it against him.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” she reminded him gently. A multitude of times in fact. “I have my visits I need to make, to the families my father would visit. Making sure they’re adequately supplied with any medications they may need. And there’s Anna with a new leanbh on the way.”

Cantor, a Narragansett Pacer still resplendent for his age, grazed leisurely in the pasture he shared with Gaius, Ben’s trusted mount during the war. Cantor belonged to Abigail and had a certain dramatic flair and mischief about him that not even the cleverest horse trainer could break. And oh how she despised that word. To break a horse’s spirit was cruel, something her father had agreed with adamantly. The bond formed between herself and Cantor had begun nearly at first sight. She had never felt a bond so strong in another being, apart from her husband. And of course her friends.

“Clara has been staying with Anna and Abe with Caleb gone,” he said, in a tone indicating he knew very well this conversation was repetitive, though he chose to believe it was well-rehearsed. “And there are other physicians they can consult, Dr. Jenkinson for one.”

Abigail snorted. “Oh, that arse.” She should’ve at least attempted to look contrite. That was no way for a woman to speak. But given that she had been in the company of men disguised as a man in the Continentals for several years, she more than earned a pass. But then again, she had always spoken her mind even before the war, though she had been less inclined to speak as freely. She really needed to work on that. 

“He doesn’t even know their medical history. My father had his notes and was always conscientious to ensure they were treated properly. From what I’ve heard, Dr. Jenkinson appears to be the ‘love them and leave them’ type.”

“Abigail,” he reprimanded, unable to conceal his amused grin.

“What? And his bedside manner is severely lacking.”

“Maybe he’s just a man of few words.”

“Ha! You’re right. A few words and all of them are wrong. And he charges an arm and a leg for his ‘services’, and I fear that might be quite literally,” she huffed. Seeing his amused, fond look, she softened, blushing a little. “I’m ranting. I’m sorry.” And the fact that almost everyone trusted him with their needs as opposed to her, a woman, who had seen more and worked more under the guidance of the camp physician Dr. Anderson that Dr. Jenkinson had probably seen it in his entire occupation thus far.

“I’m well aware of him,” he said. “I apologize for bringing up his name, especially since he claimed that you stole a technique for treating a patient.”

And boy that raised Abigail’s hackles! “Yes, and that! What a pretentious…” She exhaled sharply. No, she couldn’t even get into that again. “That technique is quite common. No one person can claim ownership over it. Publishing a written report and having someone take it and use it verbatim without giving proper credit, that is stolen. But you cannot lay claim to a common technique that’s used in treatment and say it’s your own. You can’t own ideas or general practice skills.”

Ben reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “If he gives you any further trouble, I’ll approach him to reinforce your points.”

The image pleased her far more than it should have. “Can I participate?”

He laughed at her eagerness and shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m not willing to risk it, though you’ve proven yourself more than capable.”

The married couple watched both their horses graze comfortably in the pasture. The scene was peaceful and helped calm Abigail’s nerves. She rested her head on Ben’s shoulder and sighed quietly to herself. This is what life should be. 

Cantor raised his head and looked in their direction, his ears pricked forward. He had an audience! At first, when he began walking, she thought he was coming in search for treats but was proven wrong when he approached an unsuspecting Gaius, who was grazing happily and minding his own business. Slowly, Cantor stretched out his neck and gave a swift, light nip on the other horse’s haunches. Gaius jerked his head up and whinnied sharply, but by the time he did so, Cantor was trotting away, his tail swishing behind him victoriously.

“That’s your horse,” Ben observed wryly.

She giggled despite her exasperation. “I know.”

The horses chased each other for a little while, Gaius determined to defend his honor. Only when things were settled did Ben and Abigail move on, settling underneath a large maple tree that she, Ben, Caleb, Abe, and Anna had always favored as children. It still amazed her that the tree was still standing. For as long as she remembered, it had been fully grown and beautiful. It contributed to the beautiful autumn foliage at the end of summer. She was convinced it would outlive them all.

She lowered herself to the ground, settling against the rough bark comfortably. Before she knew it, Ben was sitting beside her, but then suddenly he shifted so that he was on his back, his head in her lap.

Shaking her head, Abigail tutted, “You shouldn’t have your head there.” She said this even as she was releasing his hair from its tie so she could run her fingers through it.

He frowned, but it disappeared as soon as her fingers were at his scalp. “Why not?”

She leaned in as if to share a dangerous secret. “People might take offense to it.”

It was his turn to huff. “They can take offense to it all they like, but what I do with my wife on our property is my business. Not theirs.”

Abigail’s heart warmed. “You really do like calling me your wife.”

He smiled contentedly. “I really do.”

She closed the distance and rewarded him with a kiss. “So do I.”

They shared another kiss until they reluctantly parted for air. That’s when he murmured, “So about Philadelphia.”

Laughing, Abigail resumed resting against the maple bark. “You are a persistent one, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” he remarked, humming with approval as she continued running her fingers through his hair. “The sessions usually last a week. The frequency of them depends on what’s on the agenda, so I’ve gathered. With the adoption of the Articles of Confederation, it’s bound to be even more unpredictable. I wouldn’t expect you to uproot yourself completely. It’s just… this will change our lives the moment I set foot through those doors.”

“I know,” she murmured, tucking an errant strand behind his ear. “I support your decision to see this through. I hope you know my hesitation has absolutely nothing to do with you. I worry for the families my father helped. Most of them were destitute long before the war and now… I understand there’s no guarantee they would even see me, but I would like to try anyway. But seeing as Dr. Jenkinson,” she made a face as she uttered the name, “does reside here, at least there is someone to care for them.”

She scraped her nails along his scalp and felt him shudder lightly from the lightness of it. “Besides, you knew all along that I would go with you. Where you go, I go.”

He turned his face and nuzzled her wrist with affection. “I hoped you would. I love you for it. We’ll work this out, I promise.”

They spent an inordinate amount of time there, underneath the old maple tree, just enjoying each other’s company. The sounds of nature, the gentle summer breeze, the grazing horses, filled the silence.

Abigail was lost in her thoughts when something occurred to her. “Philadelphia. Hmm.”

“What?” he asked curiously.

She inquired innocently, “Didn’t Hamilton mention at the wedding he rented a house there?”

Ben had nearly fallen asleep underneath her hands, but the moment the name Hamilton came out of her mouth, his eyes opened. “No.”

“No? I’m most certain that he does.”

“No, we’re not staying with them,” he elaborated.

Abigail blinked innocently. “I didn’t say that we should. In fact, I didn’t say anything at all.” She paused her ministrations. “His wife, Eliza, did invite us to visit if we were ever in Philadelphia…” she trailed off suggestively, a hopeful glint in her eye.

Ben continued to frown, but at her increasingly hopeful expression, he sighed. “All right. We can visit them, but only if we send notice in advance, and if they’re at home.”

“Oh, no. I was really hoping to break inside their home and rummage around their personal belongings,” Abigail remarked. “I haven’t done that in a while.”

“You’re joking,” Ben said. He looked at her, puzzled. Then he decided, “You’re definitely joking.”

She smiled and gave him no indication of whether or not he was correct. Her secrets were her own. Besides, the only other person who knew about it was Anna. Then she pressed her lips against his sweetly. She couldn’t sworn she heard him mutter the word “minx” against her mouth. That only made her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 9/20/20: Omg! Guys, thank you so much for all of the love and positive responses on this fic and When We Were Young! It seriously means so much to me! Currently, I'm in the midst of my third (technically fourth) full semester of grad school with two seven week courses that are rapidly approaching their end, so I'm sorry for not having many updates for you guys! Good news is I might have something up for you today or tomorrow. I just wanted to leave an update telling you how much I appreciate your love and kindness :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in an update in the notes in the previous chapter, I'm blown away by the love and support for this fic and When We Were Young. Thank you guys so much! Again, apologies for the inconsistent updates. School and work have been taking the bulk of my time :( But in the mean time, I have a lot more of this plotted for this, so I'm looking forward to writing more chapters!

Almost immediately from the moment Abigail agreed to accompany Ben to Philadelphia, plans were put into motion. Fortunately, with Ben’s expected arrival, accommodations were already made for him. Hopefully with the news of his marriage, they had anticipated the arrival of his new bride along with him, otherwise their quarters could be a tight fit. Either option didn’t bother Abigail. They had experienced far smaller quarters before, and none of them were unpleasant. 

Their essential belongings were mostly packed and tucked away in what trunks and satchels could be spared. Fortunately, they were still in possession of Thomas Williams’ wagon he used to visit his patients in town and surrounding areas. It was just enough room to store their belongings, and Lord knows, how long they would be in Philadelphia. A few weeks easily could turn into a few months, possibly more, depending on the results of this meeting. In the end, it didn’t matter. As long as she had Ben and of course her friends, nothing else mattered.

Clara and Anna had arrived to help her back, but both Abigail and Clara insisted that Anna stayed off her feet as much as possible. To soothe any ruffled feathers, the blonde had suggested that Anna gave them directions, and they would follow, which pleased the mother-to-be out of her subdued mood.  
With the heavy lifting already performed by Ben and Abe, the women contented themselves with sorting out what Abigail would take with her. She already knew she would bring her medical supplies, including her notebooks filled with annotations and notes from her time with Anderson in the infirmary camp, along with medical books Caleb smuggled for her as gifts. 

Clara took one look at her organized piles, seeing how much larger her medical related effects outranged her personal effects, and laughed. “We see where your priorities lie,” she observed with an amused grin.

Abigail shrugged, smiling regardless. “I’m sure there’s plenty of people in Philadelphia that need healing. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

Anna looked at her, eyebrows. “But what will you wear?”

Abigail’s brows furrowed. “What are you…” She looked at her trunk filled with clothes, or lack thereof, and blushed. “Oh.”  
Together, the three women managed to organize a decent enough wardrobe for Abigail’s travels. There were one or two dresses that Clara had brought with her and insisted that she take. Abigail took them under duress, claiming she couldn’t very well accept them without offering her some sort of compensation, to which Clara replied, “As long as you brag about your good friend’s seamstress’s prowess, that’s all the compensation I require. You know how much those society ladies are looking for the latest fashion or trying to find something no other woman would have.”

Abigail grinned. “That’s brilliant. Of course, I’ll be complicit in your entrepreneurial endeavor.”

Clara grinned back. “I appreciate that.”

Once they were done, Ben and Abe were summoned to add them into the wagon, which secured safely inside the small stables only a few yards away from the house. By the time they returned, the women had already begun preparing for dinner. Abigail looked out the window and hadn’t realized it had gotten so late with the flurry of activity from the day.

Young Thomas, who had accompanied his father and step-mother, was currently being entertained by Abe and Ben in the living room, mainly as a rouse to keep him from being underfoot in the kitchen. There was a noticeable absence among them, a lack of a boisterous presence, no chaotic energy to fuel Thomas’s mischief. Every single person, except for Little Thomas of course, felt it.

Seeing the tension in Clara’s shoulders, Abigail stopped her chopping and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He’ll come home.”

The redhead looked up and smiled sadly. “I know. He sent word that he’ll be returning any day now.” She returned her attention back to chicken, already arranged for cooking, and hesitated. “I just wish he were here tonight is all.”

Abigail gave Clara another comforting squeeze, sharing a sad look with Anna over her shoulder before returning to her post. It wasn’t right that Caleb wasn’t with them. Having everyone together without him, it just felt… incomplete. Clara had shared the letter he had sent to their residence, through some intricate network that only Caleb and most likely Ben were privy to. He would most likely return to Setauket when she and Ben would be on their way to Philadelphia.

“Well, you and Caleb must visit us then,” Abigail had insisted. She also looked at Anna and said she and Abe and Thomas must do the same. They had all made their promises, even with Anna making a few joking remarks about pregnancy. Even though the relocation wasn’t permanent, it still felt like a parting of ways, something Abigail couldn’t bring herself to think about.

Clara helped Anna season the chicken and prepare it for its roasting while Abigail continued chopping the vegetables, chopping the carrots into quarter inch slices. With the carrots, garlic cloves, and onions ready, she drizzled a small amount of oil into the sturdy pot before pouring in the vegetable mixture. She returned the pot to the hearth, smiling in satisfaction at the first sound of sizzling vegetables as the flames kissed the bottom of the pot.

She set to work on peeling and dicing the potatoes as the other women continued to rub down the chicken with rosemary and thyme. Only when they were ready did Abigail remove the pot from the hearth long enough to layer the bottom with potatoes and Anna to carefully place the chicken inside then Clara covered it with the lid.

“Go on, you two,” Abigail said, shooing the other women into the living room. “I’ll clean this up. It’s the least I could do.” After a few moments of bickering, they reluctantly acquiesced and retired to the living room.

Abigail glanced up and smiled as Abe immediately rose to meet Anna halfway, one hand gently reaching for her arm while the other pressed against the small of her back. He dipped his head close to hers, murmuring something that brought pleasant smile to Anna’s face. 

She murmured something back before kissing his cheek and allowed him to help her sit down on the settee, only after he made certain it was comfortably stocked with pillows. She was barely a month pregnant, if that. Abigail knew Anna Smith-Woodhull would be in good hands for the duration of her pregnancy, though she wondered if the well-intentioned Abe might grate her friend’s nerves occasionally.

Her attention returned to the task at hand, wiping down the counters and clearing away peelings and casualties of the vegetable chopping. So absorbed she was in the task she didn’t hear anyone enter the kitchen.

“Need some help?” Ben asked, announcing himself as he entered the room. 

Still, Abigail jumped at the sound of his voice, her heart racing in a brief moment of panic. She looked up and noticed his smiling face growing into one of concern. She willed herself to relax and smiled softly. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said, “but I want to.” He took a rag and approached her carefully. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”  
Tucking an errant strand behind her ear, she chuckled ruefully. “I know. I’m usually not… I suppose I’m still out of sorts from that dream.” The dream that was more aptly described as a nightmare.

He didn’t reach out and touch her, but she knew that he wanted to. He didn’t push the matter further. Instead, they worked together tidying the kitchen until it was spotless. Periodically, Abigail checked on the roast and giggled every time Ben would sniff it appreciatively. He looked sorely tempted to reach it an steal a carrot slice, but she was quick to playfully admonish him. 

And every time she did, he would draw her into a kiss. A gentle gliding of lips, familiar, tender, and sweet. She never felt safer than in Ben’s arms, the feel of his warmth against her, the comforting steady beating of his heart underneath her fingertips. 

The sound of an approaching horse outside their home drew their latest kiss up short. Frowning, they both looked at the door. “Are we expecting anyone else?” she inquired.

“I don’t think so, no,” Ben remarked. Dusk had given way to night, which prompted him to grab a lantern to lit. “Stay here. I’ll look into it.”

Abigail nodded and followed him to the door. He didn’t even bother to sigh before letting himself out. She caught the door from closing completely and was just about to follow him when Anna called out form the living room, “Is everything all right?”

Before Abigail could reply, she heard Ben shout, “You sneaky bastard!”

Pushing the door wide open, she retrieved the lantern that had been unceremoniously displaced and raised it to get a better look. Ben was rapidly approaching the dark figure and quickly embraced him, pounding him heartily on the back. When they parted and began approaching the house, Abigail know recognized that unforgettable face.

“Caleb!” she exclaimed, voice carrying into the house.

The whaler grinned, did a little jig, and bowed at the waist. “Evening, Mrs. Tallmadge. Hope you don’t mind taking in a poor, wandering soul.” He sniffed the air, eyebrows raised suggestively. “Seems to me like supper time.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be off doing your smuggling?” she demanded, though there was really no real heat in her words. “After the wedding, you said you had to head out.”

“Aye, well, I did, but then decided to come back for a bit longer,” he admitted. He slapped Ben on the back. “Couldn’t very well in good conscience let the two of you go off to Philadelphia without a proper sendoff.” With that said, he withdraw a dark bottle of something from inside his coast. “This should help us all sleep well tonight.”

Abe, Thomas, and Clara had come to the door, drawn by all the commotion, with Anna a few steps behind. The moment she recognized her husband, Clara hurried down the stairs straight into her husband’s open arms. The bottle would’ve hit the ground if not for Ben’s quick maneuvering.

“Missed me already?” Caleb asked cheekily, kissing his wife’s face.

Clara sniffed. “Hardly.” Her arms remained around him as he kissed her again for her contrariness.

“Well, now it feels like a proper get together,” Anna grinned, hugging Caleb when he made it to the porch. They all went inside, Clara at her husband’s side. Anna disappeared into the kitchen to check on the chicken before returning when everyone was settled. Caleb was already distributing small glasses of the brandy around, with the obvious exception to Thomas and Anna politely declined.

The minutes seemed to quickly pass them by. Stories on top of stories were shared, brandy was shared, and laughter filled the house with such warmth that hadn’t been felt in such a long time. Once dinner was ready, everyone took care to set the table and filled their plates once dinner was served. Every chair was filled, so young Thomas had to sit in his father’s lap. The evening merriment carried over into dinner, the roasted chicken served with a rounding success.

Abigail shared a warm look with Ben, who sat beside her. It was difficult to imagine leaving all this behind, even for a few months, but in their hearts, they knew Setauket would always be home.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw thank you guys so much for the love and positivity! I'm happy that you're liking the sequel fic! I'm not sure how long this fic will be, but I have plenty of more plot for these two. Things do get a little spicy in this chapter ;)

Abigail woke slowly, blinking languidly as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was still early yet, she could feel it in her bones. Still, she found herself gently, quietly slipping out of Ben’s arms just enough to prop herself up and push back the curtains. The sky was still dark, with no brightness of colors in the sky, but she had awoken at such a time several times over the past handful of years to sense the anticipation of the promise of a new day.

Letting the curtains fall, she settled back into the bed, bringing the blankets more securely around her. She smiled to herself when she moved back into her former position, her husband’s arms sought her out, then rolled over and drew her closer. His face settled at the crook of her neck. A soft, contented sigh escaped him, lightly blowing at the loose tendrils along her neck. Even in his sleep, she could count on him to find her.

She wriggled a bit on the bed to make herself more comfortable and paused when she felt his warmth breath against her neck as he stifled a groan. Curious, she shifted closer when she felt something pressing insistently against her backside. Her smile transformed into a grin. So not entirely asleep after all.

Humming softly, Abigail tugged his arm more securely around her abdomen. “Are you awake?” she asked, though the answer was obvious.

“No,” he murmured, prompting them both to chuckle.

She craned her neck enough to press a kiss against his cheek. “You could’ve woken me. It would’ve been worth the trouble.” She gave a gentle roll of her hips to prove her point. His breath hitched, his hold on her instinctively tightening, bracing.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. Not when it’s one of the few nights…” he inhaled sharply when she gave another dangerous roll of her hips. “One of the few nights you slept well.”

By not waking up with night terrors. Those nights were few and far between. The fact Ben was thoughtful and considerate enough to let her sleep and ignoring his own needs showed what kind of man he was. She couldn’t think of many other men who would do the same for their wives. Well perhaps Abe and Caleb… and André, since he and Peggy finally married.

Dispelling the thoughts of other men wasn’t that difficult for her to do, not when she felt her own desire growing. “I love you for that,” she spoke, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “But I think,” she rolled over so that she was facing him, “since we’re both awake,” taking his hand and sliding it down towards the hemline of her chemise, “we could afford some trouble.”

Facing him now, there was no doubt left in her mind that Ben was fully awake. The way his dark gaze flicked over her face, the complete utter adoration and yearning in his eyes, was nearly her undoing. On a soft sigh, she pressed her mouth against his, unable to control herself any longer.

Their lips glided softly, once, twice, thrice, before their entwined hands traveled up and underneath Abigail’s shift, Ben’s hand hot and rough against her skin. Gooseflesh rose along her skin with each stroke of his hand, which was something that wouldn’t dissipate no matter how many times they consummated.

She released his hand that moment it rested on her breast and found herself very pliant underneath his skilled touch. He cupped her, before giving her a gentle squeeze. She swallowed back a moan. “We’ll need to be quiet,” she reminded him, shuddering as his thumb circled her nipple. “Our guests are still asleep.”

Too late to travel, Anna and Abe had taken up residence in Abigail’s childhood room, while Caleb and Clara and slept in another room. The Williams estate had at least another room to accommodate them, the one room Abigail was considering to expand upon her father’s physician practice. It was a very good thing she hadn’t gotten around to it yet, lest Caleb and Clara resort to sleeping in the stable.

“Is that a challenge?” Ben asked softly. There was just a hint of something in his voice, that Abigail released how much trouble she was in. She shivered once more in anticipation.

He took his time with her, fondling at her breasts to his heart’s content. There was a bit of a struggle though when he made an attempt to turn his attentions to the other, only to encounter so tactical error with her shift. Making a quiet noise of frustration, he reluctantly withdrew his hand to tug at her shift. “This needs to go.”

“Aye, major,” Abigail acquiesced with a grin. She sat up, much to his dismay, but when he saw her reach for the hemline and slip the shift over her head before discarding it, he quickly quieted his protests once he felt the garment was gone.

He reached for her, and she went with him, only this time, she rolled them over so that she was straddling his thighs. In the dark, she ran her fingers over him until they landed on the pitched nature of his night shirt. Instead of slipping a hand underneath like she wanted, she cupped him through the material, watching as he struggled to hold back another groan. As much as she wanted to rip that night shirt off him, to run her hands, fingers, mouth, tongue all over him, she decided to do what proper ladies ought to do, and what she did best.

She teased the head through thick material of his shirt by rubbing slow, purposeful circles, very similar to how he had tended to her nipples. She didn’t have to see him fully to know that he was already flushed. He was already growing warmer underneath her palms, even through the material of his night shirt. She kept it up until he was squirming underneath her.

“Love…” he gasped quietly. “If you don’t, ah, do something…”

“Yes?” she inquired, now fully embracing his length in her hand, which now stilled.

He grunted and attempted a half aborted upward thrust. “You know, you’re going to pay for this later.”

She smiled, even though he couldn’t fully see it. There was nothing she enjoyed more than a confident, retributive Benjamin Tallmadge when they were in bed, and given all of their many private lessons, he knew exactly what he was doing. She had no doubt that, no matter what she gave him now, he would return the favor for the teasing, and more.

“But can you keep quiet?” she asked lightly. When she heard him growl in frustration, she gave him a gentle squeeze. He gasped quietly. “ _A ghrá_?”

Before he could dignify that with a response, she pushed back the edge of his night shirt and wrapped her hand around him, stroking him slowly. He pulsed inside her hand. She knew he was ready, more than ready. The longer she stroked him, the more aroused and frustrated he became. She didn’t bother to prevent him from thrusting upwards, remembering all too well how it felt for herself to be in her hand’s place.

“Abigail,” he groaned weakly, struggling to control himself and barely succeeding. “I need… more – _shite_!”

Having grown impatient herself, the blonde had already been positioning herself over him, all the while maintaining her grip on him. The darkness of the room had helped in her endeavor to conceal her surprise. She had just begun to lower herself astride him the moment he swore, perhaps not so quietly. And to be perfectly honest, she was so immersed in the feeling of him inside her to care.

Fully seated, she took a moment to catch her breath and adjust to the feel of him again before finally she began to move. She slowly rotated her hips, gasping softly when he thrust upwards. Falling forward, she barely caught herself with her hands on his chest, but she needn’t worry. His hands were at her waist, supporting and guiding her as he moved. It only took less than half a dozen thrusts before they began moving in sync, swaying in that familiar dance they had long since perfected.

Stilling briefly, Ben sat up so that she was firmly in his lap. When she arched her back, his face immediately pressed against her breasts, smothering his moans against her supple curves. Closing her eyes in pleasure, Abigail bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her own but wasn’t certain how successful either of them were, too lost in the moment and in each other to think about anything else.

Far too quickly, they both found themselves arriving precariously close to the edge. Panting, she felt him pull away from her breasts, much to her chagrin. Soon enough his hands run upwards until they were cupping her face, and she was drawn into a fierce kiss. Just barely she fought the urge to nip at his lips, knowing just how much that drove him wild, that and when she tugged at his hair. She knew nearly everything that could drive him to distraction, and often she used that to her advantage, but now, knowing just how badly they needed to stay quiet, she refrained, again _barely_.

“Ben… I’m… _oh_ ,” she murmured against his mouth, gasping as she clenched around him. Her entire body shuddered as jolts of pleasure shot through her. She whimpered with pleasure as his thrusts became more stuttered, and then just after half a dozen thrusts, he slipped inside her, kissing her hard to conceal a choked off oath.

As they slowly recovered, Abigail pressed sweet, gentle kisses along his neck, his cheeks, his brow, perspiration covering them both. She didn’t know where she began and he ended. They were one.

With a tenderness that nearly made her weep, Ben slipped out of her and held her close, murmuring softly, “Lord, what have I done to deserve such a woman?”

She half wondered if he’d intended for her to hear those words, or if he thought she had already fallen asleep. Under other circumstances, she might have potentially taken offense to the words, particularly if he expressed his frustration with her, which was she couldn’t deny wasn’t fair. God knew she had given the man enough headaches throughout the course of their lives, though that wasn’t to say he was always the injured party.

But lying in his arms, his words stirred something win her, something incredibly warm and calming, a comfort she never would have known that she needed. But she wasn’t thinking what he had done to deserve a woman like her. What she was wondering was what had she ever done to deserve a man, a husband, such as Benjamin Tallmadge?

Pressing her face against his chest, she pressed a kiss right over his heart. “I love you. No matter what life brings us, wherever it leads us, you’ll always have my heart.”

With slow surging presence of dawn creeping into the sky, the darkness in their bedroom lightened. She could make the outlines of his face when she looked up at him. The sight of his smile prompted her stomach to flip, as it often did at his soft expressions. He brushed his nose against hers before kissing her lips once more, continuing to kiss her until the sun rose in the horizon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can honestly say this is the longest I have ever gone without updating a fic in a while. I'm so sorry. I had a lot going on since I last updated, a number of factors contributing to it. I was pretty exhausted after doing two half courses in the first half of the semester on top of another full semester course and another thing that happened right before my semester started that's bugged me more than it should. Add that to overthinking and being overly exhausted by this year, that leads to a not quite productive time, creative-wise. I haven't been on this site at all really, and I'm overwhelmed by the kindness and positive feedback for this fic. Thank you guys for being so understanding! 
> 
> This chapter was going to be a bit longer, but since I haven't given you guys an update in a long time, I decided to divide the chapter a bit so that I could give you guys something. I've missed by Ben and Abigail babies so much, and writing them again has refueled my love for them and Turn. I hope you guys enjoy :)

With the help of their friends, Ben and Abigail finished their final packing preparations and left just before the sun rose of the horizon the next morning. It took some bribery on Abigail’s part but Cantor was eventually coaxed into his harness, along with Gaius, to drive the wagon. 

“Good, boy,” she murmured, stroking his neck while feeding him another carrot. Noticing Gaius’s expectant expression, she divided Cantor’s spoils with him. 

“Is everyone ready?” Ben inquired, amusement coloring his voice as she finished distributing the carrots.

“I believe so,” she remarked, smiling in kind, but she didn’t hop into the wagon right away. Instead, she watched as came closer, setting his hands on her waist. She took the opportunity to kiss him and hummed softly. “I like your hands on me.”

With a noise of approval, he pressed another kiss to her mouth. “Not in front of the children,” he murmured, though his actions contradicted him. With the strength that never ceased to astonish her, he lifted her into the wagon. Ensuring she was comfortable, he helped move her skirts so they wouldn’t tangle in the reins. She smiled softly when he kissed the back of her hand, his eyes echoing that very softness before rounding the wagon to take his seat beside her.

The journey to Philadelphia was roughly a three to four day journey, good weather permitting. They paused along the way to let their horses cool off and graze a bit, taking time to feed themselves from the food Abigail had packed for the road, bread, cheese, apples, and cannisters that could be refilled with water at the nearest water source.

“We’ll stop at the first inn we see when it gets dark,” Ben remarked as they harnessed both Gaius and Cantor back to the wagon.

Abigail slipped the horses another carrot, rubbing their ears affectionately. “You know, if you wish to conserve our finances, I can handle carry on as we have been. I’ve become proficient with campfires.”

Ben smiled and lifted a hand to tuck a golden curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered across her cheek with no small degree of tenderness. “I know, far better than most, just how capable you are. You’ve experienced far more than any woman ought to, or any person for that matter. I want to take care of you.” He touched his lips to hers. “Please let me.”

“Okay,” she sighed, giving in far too easily than it pleased her. Benjamin Tallmadge had that effect on her, not that she would admit it freely, or often. But what she could admit she was very much in love with this man and had no qualms in expressing these feelings for him, whether through verbal or physical means.

It was growing close to dusk when they arrived at a crossroads. About half a mile down the road there was a marker for lodgings for the weary traveler. They agreed they would rest there for the evening before continuing to Philadelphia early the following morning.

The inn in question was more of a tavern, but there were rooms attached to the establishment. While Ben wasn’t particularly pleased about spending the night in the tavern with more than a dozen drunken men around his wife, she gently reminded him that there wasn’t much choice in the matter. And if there was to be any trouble, she still had her father’s gun.

The tavern was alit with a fire and several sconces, but the amount of bodies packed at tables were really what made the place warm. Securing an arm around her waist, Ben approached the man Abigail could only assume was the tavern owner or innkeeper. “Good evening, sir. We were wondering if you have any rooms available.”

The tavern owner looked up from his work and eyed them shrewdly. “Aye, I might. But as you can see, it is a crowded evening.” He then looked Abigail closely and frowned in disapproval. “Though we don’t have enough separate quarters.”

Abigail’s eyebrows raised slightly while Ben’s shoulders went rigid, both understanding the implication. “I understand, sir, but my _wife_ and I would really appreciate a room,” Ben remarked, expression firm with the brief exception of the instinctive upwards turn of his mouth at the word wife. She concealed her smile as the tavern owner’s expression transformed immediately. 

“Of course, sir. My apologies!” he said, looking a bit sheepish. He called for a woman named Mary and asked for her to prepare a room for a lovely married couple. Abigail had to bite her lower lip to keep from chuckling. Turning back to them, he said, “You know how it is these days. Young men taking women to these parts away from their families, sharing quarters and not being married. I guess it is the new way of the world. Living in sin.”

If Abigail bit her lip any harder, she would’ve drawn blood. She shared a look with Ben, who gave her a knowing shake of his head. The words were already on the tip of her tongue, and only when the tavern owner when it search for his keys did she lean in and murmur into her husband’s ear, “We may be married, but that hasn’t stopped us from living in sin.”

“Stop it,” Ben muttered, cheeks flaming as the owner came back to show them to their room. Once Gaius and Cantor were settled into the small stables, they only carried only the essential belongings with them for the night. Abigail recalled the last time she had been in a tavern was Townsend’s while visiting Abe a few years back, though “visiting” wasn’t quite the term she would use for how she’d met him. The boiled egg and invisible ink was a handy trick, one that she would always keep in mind to employ should the occurrence every require it again.

Abigail thought of what waited for them in Philadelphia and calmed herself. She hadn’t been in the city for a number of years. She had no idea what was to come, but she hoped things changed from the time her previous circumstances when she had briefly lived in the city. 

“ _Go n-éirí an bóthar leat_ ,” she murmured to herself as she clenched at her skirts. Ignoring the nerves fluttering inside her, the blonde rejoined Ben in their room.

May the road rise up and meet them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys! Here's another update. I've missed my babies so much. Thank you all so much for your lovely comments and kudos! Just a bit of a warning, I'm taking few more historical liberties here - namely that Alexander Hamilton and Eliza didn't live in Philadelphia until 1790 - but shhhhh 
> 
> Also, you get a bit of a glimpse of Abigail's life prior to _When We Were Young_ , which you'll see a more of in the next few chapters.
> 
> Tw: mention of physical assault

Ben and Abigail had arrived in Philadelphia nearing mid to late July. Practically from the moment they had just settled, Ben fell into his new position as a congressman, something that didn’t seem to come naturally to him. By that, it was only that he was a man of action, a battle tactician, rather than a political strategist. 

The first day he had returned to their rooms after meeting, he had been very frustrated with the slow progression of the Congress. He actually wondered if Washington had made the right decision in asking for him to take on this task. Abigail, comforting and sympathetic, suggested that he looked at this as just another version of war. Granted it wasn’t as direct as he was used to, but the frame of reference was quite similar if one stepped back and looked at it. That seemed to help him, even though it was a rather cynical perspective. Cynical yet realistic.

“It’s not quite the same as battle on the field,” Abigail conceded as she ran her fingers through her husband’s hair comfortingly. “But they share similar traits. Just do what you’ve done as captain, major, Culper… only, just perhaps don’t shoot your opponents.”

Ben huffed out a laugh and turned his face so he could nuzzle her wrist affectionately. “Actually, that is a very helpful way of looking at it.” He kissed the inside of her arm. “You’re an insightful woman, Abigail Elizabeth Tallmadge.”

Grinning, the blonde stopped her ministrations long enough to lean over and kiss him. “Sometimes, you just inspire me.”

Along with Ben, there were a handful of other compatriots that joined the ranks, including Alexander Hamilton, that made their appearances every so often, though given their duties to assist in the tying of loose ends with the struggling British forces, it was generally brief. 

On occasion, Abigail worried that Ben ever felt displaced, that instead of being right in the heat of battle, he was now among civilians, but it wasn’t quite so. He was in an entirely different terrain but not so one that he was unaccustomed; she needed only to remind him of that.

While he spent his days establishing himself within the Congress, Abigail found herself spending most of her days with Eliza Hamilton. After meeting Hamilton’s wife at her wedding, she had taken an instant liking to her. Upon their first meeting in Philadelphia, they had gotten along so well that Ben needn’t have worried any further about his wife experiencing her own displacement. 

The women spent most of their days in the Hamilton’s rented home on Walnut Street in the city, where they alternated between Eliza residing their and living with her parents in Albany, depending on Hamilton’s station within the city itself. Luck would have it be that he was also asked by Washington to convene with Congress for a time. Abigail was grateful for a friend in Philadelphia. Her previous engagements in the city hadn’t been particularly… as friendly.

With the birth of their first child in January, Philip, she was very much pleased to play nursemaid to the child if ever a health issue arose. That and the fact she adored children. She felt a twinge of sadness that she couldn’t be with Clara to help with Anna during her pregnancy, but snuggling Philip against her bosom while his tired mother savored a cup of tea after having just nursed him, well, it helped replace an ache inside her with something else.

“You’re so good with him,” Eliza observed, tired yet still smiling fondly. “A child looks very good in your arms.”

Abigail smiled down at the dozing _leanbh_ in her arms, instinctively snuggling him closer when his lips briefly puckered in a tiny frown. It disappeared at her movement, and she felt herself relax once more. “I won’t deny that I haven’t thought about it,” she murmured, “though honestly not as often as one would think. My life has been rather, ah, time consuming up until recently.”

Eliza, though curious, didn’t pursue that particular statement. Instead, she remarked, “I hope to have a house full of children. To live in a country that is no longer consumed in bitterness and war, for everyone to live wonderfully and prosperously and free and to have many children.”

Abigail looked up, grinning cheekily. “I wonder if your Alexander knows you are such a dreamer.”

Eliza chuckled. “I’m afraid no one is as big of a dreamer as he. It really is a remarkable quality in a person. Frustrating at times but still remarkable.”

“On frustrating idealistic husbands, you are in good company,” Abigail remarked, prompting her new friend to laugh. “Though to be fair it has only been a weeks, so I’ll yield to your experience.”

They continued to talk about things but not topics limited to family life and the home. Conversations of literature, poetry, science, and medicine were some of their more popular topics, though she often reminded herself to limit herself on the latter, strictly to her experiences with her father and teaching herself more of the healing hearts. She couldn’t very well explain how she apprenticed with the Continental infirmary camp doctor and learned how to create very poultices and remedies, how to perform different surgeries, and work with patients with different problems ranging from pneumonia to different forms of disease. Or she could but not without having to fully answer to several questions she knew Eliza would have.

There was even discussion of politics, which couldn’t be helped because of their husbands. Eliza still insisted that her sister Angelica was by far more intelligent in political science than herself, but Abigail, although she had yet to meet the eldest Schuyler sister, refused to allow Eliza to cut herself short. She was as intelligent and as charming as anyone Abigail had ever met, and that wasn’t something Abigail was afraid to mention to Hamilton whenever she was in his presence. While quite rare, her expressing this sentiment to his face was not.

During Abigail’s first visit to their home, Eliza had inquired if she had ever visited Philadelphia before. Abigail had confirmed that she had but prior to the war. She didn’t elaborate much more than that because, well, it involved the company of her late former husband and his family. Knowing how people tended to look at women who were on their second marriage, whether divorced or not, the blonde hadn’t wanted to risk her budding friendship by addressing it on their first meeting. It hadn’t been she feared Eliza’s disapproval – she hadn’t seemed the type then, and she certainly wasn’t the judgmental type now that she knew her a bit better – but it wasn’t something one would bring up so casually. Similarly to the topic of medicine, it invited too many inquires that were best uninvited.

However, Eliza must have read her the sudden stiffness in her posture and understood her experiences might not have been particularly great. Her smile had turned sympathetic as she said, “Well, I hope your time back here will be a more pleasant experience for you.”

Forcing a smile, Abigail had replied, “I hope so, too.” And she sincerely still hoped so. She remained a little wary about the city, mostly because she had lost contact with her former in-laws and hadn’t exactly parted on good terms with them. Strict and unyielding in their staunch beliefs, James E. Hawkins and Mary S. Hawkins hadn’t exactly approved of the engagement, yet they had somehow believed that married life would tame Abigail. With Tobias’s mother’s guiding (firm) hand, she would eventually conform to Philadelphia society life.

Thinking of them now made her unconsciously reach up and tuck a golden curl over the scar right above her ear. It was near invisible now, but she could never unsee it. Nor could she forget the feeling of her former father-in-law striking her. No one knew about the incident, apart from herself, her former in-laws, and her father. Not even Tobias. She hadn’t wanted to strain their relationship more than it already was. He’d never particularly got on with his parents, particularly their loyalist politics. 

Sensing the shift in her mood, Philip stirred in her arms, making few noises of discontent. Guiltily, she tried to quiet him, but her tension just wouldn’t ease. Eliza, having finished her tea, intervened, smiling assuredly. “Oh, I’m sure it isn’t you. He tends to be rather fussy during his day naps.”

Instead of responding, Abigail took advantage of Eliza’s distraction by reaching for her own cup of tea, which had cooled considerably. Her hands shook slightly, so she abandoned the accompanying plate to create any noise. She took a sip and steadied herself. _Foolish woman_ , she thought, _being afraid of ghosts._

The sip turned into her finishing off her tea in three swallows before setting it back down. Chamomile had calming effects, and Lord above, she knew she needed it right then.

This was a new beginning, a fresh start. She had a new husband, a new friend in a city that she had once vowed never to return. Everything would be fine. Who even knew if the Hawkins were still even in the city, especially since the British defeat at Yorktown, or maybe even before that.

Abigail took a bite of her biscuit, chewing on this thought, but the distraction made it impossible to taste it.


End file.
